


The Dragon's Chosen One

by Flamepixie20



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Before Voldemort's death, Canonical Character Death, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Dragons, Eventual Romance, F/M, Genderbending, Mad King, Magic Made Them Do It, One-Sided Attraction, Other, Pre-A Game of Thrones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 15:04:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4629789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamepixie20/pseuds/Flamepixie20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Astraea Potter helps an old lady being mugged, she had no idea what she was letting herself in for, she is thrust into Westeros at the moment where it all began to change. Rhaegar Targaryen is searching for a new wife, after the death of his first, and the mother of his future children and who better than the girl-who-lived? The dragon must have three heads and the game of thrones must be played willingly or not. How will the strong-willed Astraea, a modern girl with modern ideals, cope when thrust into the kingly court of a Mad King?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure about this...

My Dearest Hermione,

I do not know how long I have been gone, all I know is that I am no longer home, a feat that pained me more at the beginning than it does now. I suppose it would be easy to waste my words upon this parchment telling you of how much I have missed you and everyone. You would already know this so I will not repeat it and waste my ink.

If I knew back then what I know now would I have fought harder to come home? It is a question I ask myself most nights. Even now as I write this and my husband lies asleep in our bed, I cannot bring myself to regret what I’ve done. What I have forsaken to achieve my happiness.

At first I did try.

I tried every ritual, spell, potion and prayer that I knew but it all drew dead ends and I gave up. Rather ungryffindor of me I know. But what else was I supposed to do? I was sixteen and alone in this strange world, I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t you. I wasn’t resourceful. I was hot-headed and brave with no sense of self-preservation. I’m making excuses I know. I am a horrible person for leaving you behind to face Voldemort and I know, even as I write this, that you are probably dead and have been for some time.

You might’ve died hating me. You might’ve died missing me. You might’ve died wondering what happened to the girl-who-lived.

Remember those good old days?

We met at the dojo, we were both five years old, you were buck-toothed and determined to step outside of the gender stereotypes, I was just looking for a safe place to hide from Dudley. Sensei took me under his wing, the sad broken bird that I was, he introduced us and you protected me. We learnt how to fight together. And after you gone through that strict training it brings you closer. We were more than friends, we were sisters. We watched anime, laughed at stupid things, did stupid things, studied together, gossiped together, marathons of Lord of the Rings. The good times.

We spent every moment we could together.

Then we learnt we were witches, belonging to a completely different society and we began a whole new journey together. Fighting demented professors, pet snakes, soul sucking creatures of doom, dragons, cat obsessed pink wearing trolls. Well we’ve done a lot. So it is with great hope that after I’ve told you my story that you would forgive me. Or perhaps I ask too much. It is one thing to betray a friend but another thing entirely to betray family. You’re the only family I had back then Hermione.

So I understand if you do not forgive me. But I would at least like you to know the whole story. Trust me you’re in for a ride. I mean it has everything those trashy romance novels you read have. Love, betrayal, death, unsurpassable odds. Should I title it? Something trashy? Very well I shall give it my best shot.

The Dragon’s Chosen One

Was that good enough?

I suppose the beginning is the best place to start and that would be London. It had been raining for a few days now and everywhere I stood there were puddles, it seemed like one endless river that I could not escape. I was to be at the West End for a performance of Phantom so it called for my venture into the wet metropolis that London called home. It was cold and damp but I wanted to walk, so I only had myself to blame for getting wet. Still, we brits love to complain don’t we? Whether it’s having to wait in line at the shops, the postman coming late or the taxes we pay. Complain, complain, complain.

Perhaps it was my rash decision to step into Costa that had been the cause of all this.

All I knew was that I had the undeniable urge for a vanilla latte, so I ducked into the nearest Costa and got my drink. I stayed a few moments to chat with the guy behind the counter, he saw my hoodie, you know the one, and talked with me about anime. It began to rain when I left the shop, I did what all Londoners do, pulled my hood up and ignored it. Just like I ignored everyone else. I got on the tube and got off, marching like the little ant I was amidst the rush hour workers running to and fro.

I didn’t get to finish my drink, that damnable latte I was so craving, the first few sips were beautiful if a bit hot.

I thought she was just a normal old lady being mugged and you know me, can’t stop being the hero. I always have to save the day. There were three guys trying to steal her bag and jewellery, she was having none of it though but there was little she could do against three men twice her size. Especially when one of them pulled out a knife. I went for him first and disarmed him, he tried to fight back but got a bloodied nose for the effort. The next one broke his wrist and the last one fled before I could get to him.

“What a noble child,” the old woman had croaked, “but then I would expect nothing less from you Astraea.”

How she knew my name I haven’t a clue. She clearly wasn’t a witch like I was. I said nothing for what could I say? She held her hand out to me and, like the reckless fool I was, I took it.

“The perfect child,” her eyes seemed to glow with a strange fire, “yes. The dragon shall be pleased my dear Queen of Stars.”

Yeah.

I thought she was completely batty too.

But then she began murming strange words and for a moment I thought it was Sindarin, it was so lyrical sounding and smooth. But it wasn’t and then I was no longer in London. I didn’t know where the hell I was. I did know I missed my chance to quench my caffeine craving and that playing the helpful stranger sucks. All I wanted was to help some poor defenceless grandma fend off attackers. The stupid old crone tricked me and I fell for it. Hook, line and sinker.

But if it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t have met him, but that part comes later…

She startled out of her writing by the press of smooth lips against her neck, she smiled contentedly and leaned back, her feather dropping beside the parchment. Strong arms wrapped around her, caressing the swell of her belly before a masculine laughter left the man behind her.

“He kicks me,” he whispered in her ear, a shiver of delight leaving her in response.

“It is because he knows you bother his mother, he’s a mama’s boy,” she laughed and turned to look beside her. She was caught in heated indigo eyes and knew she would not be getting anymore writing done tonight. A flicker of guilt passed through her, here she was allowing herself to be distracted by her beautiful husband, when she had promised to tell her friend their story.

“Oh does my queen wish for her humble servant to leave her be?” he asked mockingly.

“Servant? You should know dearest,” she whispered with a smile, deciding the story could wait until morning, “a dragon is never a servant.”

He leant forwards, capturing her eager lips with his own and she responded with as much enthusiasm. His hand threaded into her hair, tugging her closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into the familiar cavern of her mouth. She moaned, her hands dipping into the loose breeches he wore, he was already stiff and her fingers curled around his manhood. He groaned into her mouth, her hand moving slowly up and down delighting in the noises he made just for her.

“What were you writing my love?” he asked breathlessly when he pulled away from her, drawing her up to stand before him. He quickly led her over to the bed, shedding her of her silk nightgown as he went.

“Tis a story,” she told him distractedly as he laid her upon the bed, his mouth trailing kisses down her throat as he settled himself between her legs. “for Hermione.”

He made a noise of understanding at the back of his throat, “what is it about?”

“It’s about me,” she gasped and pulled at his hair as he bit a sensitive spot in the crook of her neck, “and this strange man who made me fall in love with him.”

“Oh and who is this strange man that holds my wife’s affections?” he moved above her amusement in his lust filled orbs, his arm propped up against the bed, his other hand ran down her body, lightly caressing the bump, before teasing her clit, “should I be jealous?"

“Oh very,” she gasped out her hips bucking slightly, “he’s very handsome and…” she trailed off into a loud moan as his finger slipped inside of her and crooked in a way that made her see stars, “…oh so very good with his fingers.”

“He has his harp to thank for that talent,” he gave her breathless laugh.

For the remainder of the night she wrote no more of her story, content to allow herself to be distracted, and as they made love to one another they were both mindful of the growing babe within her.


	2. Keep Calm and Call Kakashi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Astraea mourns the loss of modern clothes, meets new friends, and decides Harrenhal should be Voldemort's stronghold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still unsure about this story... I did contemplate just doing a Rhaegar/OC or Rhaegar/Lyanna story instead of this one, but I somehow decided on a HP/ASOIAF (GOT) crossover. Yeah... I don't know how I got there either...

“You have to be kidding me,” Astraea uttered as she looked around her in disbelief, there were people who looked like they’d walked off the set of _Lord of the Rings,_ it was all so medieval. Hell there was a knight in shining armour heading towards her. Perhaps Lord of the Rings wasn’t quite right, maybe she should be thinking _Sleeping Beauty,_ pretty maidens and fancy dresses, Kings and Queens and their royal arrogance. She stood out like a sore thumb in her stonewash skinny jeans, purple Converse, bright green _Keep Calm and Call Kakashi_ hoodie and her hair pulled up into a messy ponytail. What could she say? She had been expecting a dark theatre not _this_. Whatever this was exactly.

“My… La-dy?”

Apparently her gender was now questionable, she stuck her hands in the front pocket of her hoodie, casually caressing her wand, the man who spoke seemed so unsure with himself. She would have laughed had she not been thoroughly confused as well. She rose an elegant eyebrow and waited for him to continue before huffing when it was clear he didn’t know what to say. “I am a woman,” she rolled her eyes, unamused, “you think just because I’m not wearing a pretty dress that I have a cock?”

Apparently ladies didn’t say such coarse language and now she definitely knew she was in the past, the man flinched and seemed to harden under her gaze. She found herself wondering if she was actually in a Disney film, _that old crone certainly has a dry sense of humour if she did put me in Sleeping Beauty. No way am I biting any poison apple. Not that poison would affect me._ She entertained the idea of telling him every cuss and swear word she knew, before deciding she wouldn’t want to taint his innocence. She had been around Lavender, Parvati and Ginny far too long not to become accustomed to such language and _uncivilised_ discussions, she may be a virgin but she was no prude.

“I did not assume that my lady,” he began, clearing his throat awkwardly, “I only wondered what a young maiden was doing travelling alone.”

 _Maiden!? He actually said maiden! Oh sweet Merlin,_ she fought the urge to laugh and she found herself biting the inside of her cheek to keep the laughter from bubbling over. “I am a little lost actually,” she admitted, appealing to his honour with a damsel in distress routine, “I found myself here a little while ago. Would you be ever so kind and point me in the direction of London?”

“London?” his eyes narrowed and he led his horse closer to her, “I’m afraid I’ve heard of no such place.”

“How can you not know London? It’s the Capitol for Merlin’s sake,” she huffed once more and fought the urge to childishly stamp her feet.

“The Capitol is King’s Landing,” he was clearly torn between distrust and worry, “have you suffered a head injury lady?”

“Of course not!” she snapped as frustration crept up within her, “but I’ve never heard of King’s Landing.”

“Well it’s the home of the King,” he said as if it was obvious, “King Aerys Targaryen.”

“Targaryen?” she knew her history, it was one of the things that helped save her against Voldemort, and nowhere was there ever a mention of a Targaryen king. She would have remembered the name, she would have _laughed_ at the ridiculous name. “What country is this?”

“Westeros,” the man told her before finally clicking on and getting to the conclusion she had already arrived at, “you’re not from anywhere near here are you?”

“Not in the slightest,” she shook her head, cursing the old crone so much that had she verbalised it she would have made the man blush.

That was how Astraea Lily Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World came to be in the Stark camp heading towards a place called Harrenhal. Learning of the world around her from the mouths of those younger than her. Though she reasoned the eldest boy was her age, but he was far too cocky for her to take seriously, it was the youngest boy she liked and the girl. Benjen and Lyanna. The former had his head filled with knights and swords while the latter dreamed of breaking the constraints put upon her gender.

“So the Targaryens wanted to bring their dragons back, but the eggs remain stone, they think there blood will bring them back. That’s why their words are _Fire and Blood_.” Benjen told her as they camped around a fire on the fifth night of their journey.

“Pfft,” she snorted disdainfully, “the Targaryens are fools. Dragons are creatures born of magic.”

“Like your magic?” Lyanna asked curiously, she had been intrigued by Astraea’s magic since she uttered the first spell to show them. Apparently magic wasn’t all that strong here, mostly illusions and black magic forms, but Astraea’s form of magic was entirely new. “Can you hatch a dragon egg?”

“I suppose I could,” in theory all she would have to do was the smear a few blood ruins on the dormant egg and throw it in a fire, “but dragons in my world are hatched because the older dragons are around to give the babies a sustainable and constant magical source.”

 _In other words, if I hatch a dragon it would have to around me constantly feeding from my magic until adulthood where its own magic would stabilise._ She didn’t voice the thought, magic was a hard thing to explain to a muggle. Let alone a muggle from a different world.

“So basically we’re not to mention to anyone that you can hatch dragons, lest you be taken by the king,” Brandon cut into their conversation, giving Lyanna and Benjen a sharp look that told them not to mention anything about dragons at Harrenhal.

“And I thought Voldemort was ugly,” she remarked when she spied the ruins of Harrenhal in the distance a day later, “people actually live there?”

“It’s full of ghosts,” Benjen told her only to receive a cuff around the ear from Brandon who promptly told him ghosts don’t exist.

“I’ve seen ghosts, the school I was taught at had a whole host of them,” she whispered to Benjen when his brother went away.

Harrenhal was an eyesore to put it nicely, half burnt and black as night, it wasn’t the best place she could imagine for a tourney to be held. It looked like a place Voldemort would inhabit. The uglies of the worlds had to stick together she supposed, Voldemort had no nose and Harrenhal had no roof. _They are practically two peas in a pod._

The place was busy but that wasn’t a surprise, she likened the tourney to a Quidditch World Cup, merchants came the sell their wares and people had fun. Only this time there wouldn’t be any Death Eaters. They were shown to where their tent would be for the duration to the event and Astraea was finally forced into a dress. She felt Lyanna’s pain she truly did.

“The corset is digging into the places I didn’t know I had,” she hissed to the girl who merely laughed as if to say ‘welcome to my hell’. “I want my hoodie.”

“Until this event is over you will have to put up with it,” Lyanna told her before pulling her over to a stand selling swords, Benjen ambled along beside them before engaging Lyanna in sword talk.

She wandered away from them, she already knew all there was to know about swords from her kendo lessons, and thought to find something more interesting to look upon. Her dress trailed on the ground and her slippers grew dirty, mourning her comfortable clothes, she could do nothing but grin and bear it.

She was walking by a man selling jewels and pretty gems when she saw the child fall, the young girl began sobbing on the ground and there was no mother in sight. Astraea approached and helped the girl to her feet, brushing the dirt from her and wiping at the blood on her forehead with a handkerchief. “Do you know why we fall?” she asked the girl who shook her head, “tis but a lesson of course. Every time we fall we learn, do you know what we learn?” once more the girl shook her head, “we learn that we must pick ourselves back up and work harder to not fall for the same thing once more. What is your name?”

“Lyra milady,” she mumbled shyly.

“Well Lyra,” she smiled and gave the girl a silk handkerchief Brandon had given her, “next time you fall I won’t be there. Next time you fall you must learn and what is it you must learn Lyra?”

“Tha’ I hafta pick mysen back up,” she sniffled and beamed at Astraea.

“Exactly!” she laughed and beaming look turned to wonder and awe.

“Can I know your name milady?”

“My name is Astraea,” she told the child who gave a gap-toothed smile.

“When I grows up,” she told her, “I wanna be jus’ like lady Astraea.”

“Oh why would you want to be like me?” Astraea asked surprised.

“Lady Astraea is nice to Lyra and you taught me things and dint treat me bad, and Lady Astraea is as pretty as the stars.” the girl gave her another smile before running off.

Suddenly, as though it had never occurred to her before, she finds herself missing home, perhaps it was because she had contented herself with the company of Benjen and Lyanna, or perhaps it was the reminder of her namesake. She looked around her, a lost look on her face like a child whose hand had slipped from her mother’s in the busy streets of London. But this wasn’t London, she knew London, and finding her way home wasn’t as simple as finding a Police Officer or waiting. She absently began biting her lower lip and looked down at the ground. _How can I get home when I don’t know how I was brought here, the crone said that this place is where my true destiny lays. But how can that be? I am the only one gifted with magic and everyone here is so backwards in their thinking. I want to go home._

“My lady, are you alright?” her head whipped to the side, a man stood with a white cloak and a great longsword strapped across her back. _Kingsguard,_ she thought recalling what Benjen had eagerly told her, _wearing white cloaks and honourable, they protect the king but there is no king near him. Off duty perhaps?_ “you look a little lost and overwhelmed is all. I wondered if I might help you find your way.”

“Though it is true I am lost,” she told him with a sad smile, “you cannot help me find my way.”

“Are you doubting my skills my lady?” he asked laughing to try and make light of her words, he didn’t fully understand the implications behind them, “tis only a short thing to escort you back to your tent.”

“I know where my tent is,” she shook her head, “but that is not what I meant. You would not believe me even if I told you so I will leave it at that. Thank you for trying to help. But I fear the only person who can help me is me.”

She left the befuddled knight to his own thoughts and wondered off once more, though it wasn’t long before Lyanna found her and managed to lift her spirits. They didn’t have too long before the welcoming feast and decided to make their way back to the tent to change their dresses. Though they were deterred by the sight of three squires kicking a man to the ground, the two women stormed forwards and Lyanna declared they were beating on her father’s man. The first squire found his nose bloodied by Astraea’s fist and the second was hit with a tourney sword that Lyanna found. The third, seeing himself woefully outmatched by the two, ran before any harm could befall him. His name was Howland Reed of Greywater Watch – a bannerman to House Stark, much to Lyanna’s relief – and because he didn’t look much like a lord he was treated poorly.

Benjen took to Howland like butter to bread but the two oldest Stark boys held a little more caution, until Lyanna had explained the situation.

“You bloodied a man?” Brandon asked Astraea before laughing, “You’re a wild thing that is for sure.”

“I come from a world where men and women are equal,” _not to mention I learnt to defend myself so my cousin would stop beating me, and I could train for the dangers Hogwarts unintentionally posed._ “I am trained in many forms of fighting, though we call it martial arts.”

“Come Howland, you will sit with us at the feast tonight,” Ned said solemnly, “tis the least we can do for the trouble caused to you.”

Howland protested at first until Lyanna began to rant, no man wants to hear a woman rant, and quickly agreed. He was given a new outfit courtesy of the boys and rushed out of Lyanna’s rooms. Lyanna chose a dark blue dress and Astraea an ice blue and purple taffeta style dress. Her hair, unlike Lyanna’s wild mane, fell in ringlets down her back. She felt awkward in the dress, desiring her Kakashi hoodie once more as her corset became an uncomfortable presence. Lyanna hooked her arm through Astraea’s and together they made their way to the feast.

They were seated long before the royal family made an appearance, though that was probably intentional. The kingsguard received a loud applause and cheers from the gathered people and she was once more reminded of the Quidditch World Cup. The king entered after them to a more reserved and polite applause, King Aerys was gaunt and she could see the madness haunting his purple gaze, he walked a little waifish-like and looked every bit the Mad King she had been told of. His son entered last, to a thunderous applause from everyone. There were calls of his name but his attention was focussed upon the small figure at his side.

“That’s Princess Rhaenys,” Lyanna whispered at her side, “her mother died two years ago, after the birth of Prince Aegon, she is five.”

The princess happily waved at the people, though she didn’t seem to understand why they were cheering, only happy at the attention. She was the opposite of her father, where he had long silver hair she had dark chocolate curls, she had olive skin where her father was pale. But they both shared the same purple eyes. Her father was tall, muscular without it being too obvious and so beautiful it would make Lavender jealous. But there was a melancholy aura to him, an impenetrable sadness that none could break save for those he allowed to. They sat and the feast began.

She was chewing on a piece of beef when Lyanna pointed out the knights of the squires that attacked Howland, declaring the crannogman should joust to defend his honour. He denied saying he had never jousted before and couldn’t ride a horse well. Lyanna immediately declared she would joust to which Brandon and Ned both denied her, they were arguing in quiet but harsh whispers when Astraea leant forwards.

“I shall do it,” she declared happily.

“Do you even know how?” Benjen asked to which she shrugged.

“Can’t be as hard as some of the things I’ve done,” _like riding a broomstick at eleven years old and trying to catch a small golden ball, or being taught Bartitsu at six years old._ “I’m more of a learn on the job type of girl anyway.”

“You can’t,” Brandon told her but she smiled at him in a way that told him she was going to do it anyway.

“I will help,” Lyanna told her, Benjen and Howland following her lead.

“Rumour has it,” Brandon began sometime later when everyone had begun the merry making, “Prince Rhaegar is using this tournament for all manner of ploys.”

“And what would you know of this?” Lyanna asked with a roll of her eyes.

“Some servant he bedded no doubt,” Astraea added with a sly smile.

“You wound me dear heart,” he clutched at his chest with a mock pained look, “the only maiden I would wish in my bed is the beautiful star-maiden.”

She knew telling them the meaning of her name would bite her in the ass.

“So go on then,” she motioned with her hand, “what are the gossip mongers spewing?”

“They say,” he leant closer to them, his eyes twinkling, “that he is using this tournament to gather all the lords and plot against his father. He seeks to make a grab for the throne.”

“Is that all?” Lyanna asked in a bored tone, though she was clearly intrigued, she knew better than to the play to her brother’s arrogance.

“They also say he seeks a wife,” he finished and sat back with a satisfied look on his handsome face.

“Lyanna, your brother seems to think this news would somehow excite us… are you excited?”

“Not even a little,” she shook her head shooting Astraea an amused look.

“See Brandon, we care naught for the fancies of pretty little whores you’ve fucked,” Astraea laughed at the scandalous look that crossed his face.

“A lady shouldn’t speak like that,” he said quick, looking around them but everyone was too busy trying to get drunk to notice her bawdy language.

Apparently a lady shouldn’t do a lot of things, she rolled her eyes, she should just be a Barbie Doll and then Brandon would be happy. But then that would mean being seduced by his charms and being bedded by him. The thought was not appealing. _Sorry Barbie, I will pass this time around_ she thought amusedly. She was elbowed in the ribs by an awed and excited Lyanna who nodded towards the centre of the room, where the crown prince now sat with a beautiful harp in hands. _It is seriously against the law to be a man and be that pretty!_ She thought and if she was any less than who she was she would’ve pouted. The harp matched him perfectly, along the top a three headed dragon was carved into it and its strings glowed silver in the light. Prince Rhaegar was not only gifted in weaponry but in music too, for when he began to play she found herself listening intently, his voice was like that of a sad angel. He sang of a maiden, lost in the world and torn between her love and her home.

She hadn’t noticed she was crying until she felt the wetness on her cheeks, the song hit a little too close to home for her as she thought of her friends. Of what she had left them to. Her hand’s clenched the fabric of her dress and as Rhaegar finished his song, his eyes found hers and she was unable to look away. He seemed surprised before recognition filled his eyes, she frowned at that, for there should be nothing to recognise about her. She had never seen him before.

“Are you okay?” Lyanna touched her arm, jolting her gaze from the pretty prince, “you’re still crying.”

She had missed Lyanna being teased for crying and pouring her cup of wine over her brother in revenge, and she had missed the applause Rhaegar had been given for his performance. She didn’t even realise she was still crying until Lyanna handed her a handkerchief. “I miss home,” was all she said as she dabbed at her eyes. Dancing began shortly after and those in attendance were rapidly becoming drunk, she stood from her seat and excused herself. “I need some fresh air.”

Lyanna seemed to understand for she didn’t stop Astraea from leaving the heated hall.


	3. Titania Queen of Fairies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Astraea is the friend of fairies and has a conversation with the silver prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and comments, they mean a lot! Next chapter is a Rhaegar POV, it was a bitch to write, and should be posted soon.

The drawbridge was down and it was upon it that Astraea stood, breathing in the night air and taking in the sounds around her. The stars were shining brightly and there were torches lit throughout the tower and camps. She could hear the noise of people distantly, a low constant murmur that she could never hope to make out, but it was the pond that the drawbridge laid across that drew her attention. The moon was reflected in it perfectly and it seemed to give off its own aura; as though the pond was magical. She stepped closer to the edge of the drawbridge, until her own reflection peered at her.

Only three months ago she had been in the Department of Mysteries, Sirius had died because of her naivety, and Voldemort was officially declared back. “You don’t have to worry,” Hermione had told her, “we will get through this, together. It’s in all the stories, good always wins you know.” She had squeezed Astraea’s hand and the raven-haired girl nodded. She had believed Hermione, but how could good win now? Their saviour was worlds away. _Are they looking for me? Do they know I am gone?_ She wanted to scream that she was right there, that she was trying, but she had no voice. She didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t the studious know-it-all and though she was smarter than she let on, she didn’t have this kind of knowledge. As far as she knew world travel was impossible. How was a girl just on the verge of adulthood, with an incomplete magical education, supposed to get home?

Somehow things were simpler when it was just her and Voldemort. She knew what she had to do then.

Now the face looking back at her was a stranger.

For Astraea didn’t wear pretty dresses, nor did she stand upon drawbridges in the middle of the night. Her reflection distorted as soft drops of saltwater fell into the pond. She crouched down and finally began sobbing full out. Rhaegar’s song had been forgotten as Hermione’s smile swam across her vision. _I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,_ she pleaded within her mind, but what could she do? She didn’t know how to get home. _I will try, I will do everything within my power to get back and then…_ then she would defeat Voldemort and see more of the world. She’d always wanted to go to the Caribbean. _I hope you’re all alive._

_“Why do we fall?”_

_She was five years old, a bruise had blackened her eye and her wrist was sprained, though now it held a support bandage over it. When she first saw the dojo she didn’t know what it was, just that the doors were open and the supply closet unlocked. It reminded her of her cupboard, it even had a grey mop and dustpan, and she felt safe. Her cousin and his friends had cornered her, twisting her wrist painfully behind her back while Dudley swung at her with a meaty fist. She hadn’t meant to get the colour right in class, the teacher had asked what colour blue and red make, Dudley hadn’t known but she had. For a brief moment she forgot she was supposed to be stupid. But she had remembered when Dudley punched her. She had wrenched herself away, hurting her wrist further, she found the dojo purely by chance. The supply closet was dark, but she didn’t mind the dark much anymore, not since she found out the meaning of her name. She was the star-maiden and stars shined brightest in the dark._

_When the door opened she had curled in on herself, a small sob escaping her before she stifled it, her punishment was always worse when she cried out. But the hand that touched her wasn’t cruel, it was soft and kind, it filled her with the warmth of a touch she scarcely remembered. He said nothing, only smiled at her and pulled his hand away from where it had touched her head, he held it out to her. She took it and he led her to a room with a bed, he sat her upon and began to look at her wrist. She thought he was a doctor, especially when he gave her an injection and bandaged her wrist, but he didn’t look like a doctor. He was wearing black clothes and they looked like pyjamas, maybe the supply closest was his bedroom, like the cupboard was hers, she hadn’t meant to steal his room. She wanted to apologise, but found she had no voice, adults were tricky. One moment they were all smiles and the next they yelled._

_“Why do we fall?” he asked her when he had done._

_He had a soft but firm voice, a man you listened to, like her teacher, she remained silent and sullen content to watch him for any sign of his anger. Because people always grew angry at her._

_“We fall so we can learn,” he continued as though she had answered his question, “each hurt we receive is a lesson. That we must be faster and better. Each lesson will make you stronger.”_

_“I am not strong,” she finally told him, her voice no louder than a whisper, “I’m just a little girl.”_

_“And yet the smallest of weeds are the hardest to kill, you are a weed child, and weeds survive,” he gave her a curious look, “a girl must be strong in the face of adversity.”_

_“I can be strong?” she questioned with a small frown on her delicate face._

_“We fall so we can learn to pick ourselves back up,” he told her. “You have fallen child, what shall you do now?”_

“I will survive,” she told the memory of her sensei, “I am a weed, and weeds survive.” She rubbed her cheeks, took a deep breath to centre herself and stood. “I am the girl-who-lived, every time I fall I shall pick myself up. I shall move onwards and I shall be wiser and stronger. I am the star-maiden, I survive the blackest of nights.” Her reflection seemed less like a stranger now.

She smoothed down her dress and left the drawbridge, her footsteps making only the slightest of squelching sounds on the grass, but it wasn’t the tent she turned to. It was the godswood, though she didn’t worship the Old Gods, she found the trees held a presence like that of the Forbidden Forest. She absently touched one and nodded, there was an aura and though it wasn’t magical it was old. There would be no centaurs or unicorns in this forest though. She laughed and plucked an apple from a tree.

“Princess please come out from there,” the voice was exasperated, and with every step she took she could the voices becoming louder, “your father shall be very cross with you.”

“No,” was the resolute but childish answer.

Even in the limited light she could make out the white cloaks of the two kingsguard, one stood lookout while the other was crouched down, trying his hardest to coax the little girl out from the hollowed out tree. She smiled and approached the standing kingsguard.

“He will never be able to get her out like that,” she told him, “he needs to calm her fears and make it seem like her decision.”

“She only responds to his grace when she plays tricks like these,” the guard was clearly tired, “Ser Arthur tries but cannot succeed where her father can.”

“With your permission ser, I’d like to try something,” she smiled, “a womanly touch if you will.”

“Very well lady, but if you try and harm the princess…”

He left the threat hanging but she understood, not that she would ever harm a child, she joined the kneeling knight – Ser Arthur, the Sword of Morning, her brain supplied her from Benjen’s eager talks – and peers into the opening with a faux confused look. “Well look here,” she feigned surprise, “I wonder what the pretty princess is doing in my friend’s home. I can only assume your grace is here to see her. But I fear she will not come out for humans to see.”

“Your friend?” came the curious reply, “who is she? Why does she live in a tree?”

“I am surprised you haven’t heard of her your grace,” she told her softly, smiling as a brown head peeked out from the darkened entrance, “she is called Titania and she is Queen of the Fairies.”

“Fairies?” her nose scrunched up in confusion, “what are fairies?”

“They are tiny creatures, no bigger than your little finger, they have wings and can fly. Each fairy has their own job to do. But none is more important than the queen’s job.”

“Dragons fly,” Rhaenys told Astraea, “but they are big. What does the queen do?”

“Titania wakes with the sun each morning, she steps from her little hollow and creates the world we see during the day. She goes to every flower bud and asks that it may bloom, to every leaf to ask that it shine vibrantly and to every animal from butterflies to wolves and ask that they be kind and strong.”

“She does?” her eyes were wide.

“Well of course she does,” Astraea nods eagerly, “she cares for the land and everything that inhabits it. But she does not force the flowers to bloom, nor the birds to sing, or the wolves to tame their instincts.”

“Because she is kind,” Rhaenys nods, “kind people are polite.”

“Exactly and if she forces them to do her bidding then they will grow to dislike her and stop being her friend.”

“Queen Titania lives here?” she asks uncertainly.

“Yeah, who else made the hollow?”

“I wish to see her,” she said instantly, her head raising in an arrogant fashion.

“She does not show herself to anyone,” she shook her head, “I was only here to leave her an apple. After such a long day of working she gets hungry, and fairies love apples.”

“But I so want to see her,” she pouted.

“How about you leave Titania the apple instead of me?” she asked holding out the apple to Rhaenys, “I know she shall be eternally grateful. When you’re done you can go tell your father all about the Fairy Queen.”

“I should like that very much,” she nodded after some deliberation, “Queen Titania needs her rest.”

Rhaenys crawled out from the hollow and carefully took the apple, examining it closely before deciding it would be fit for a queen. She placed the apple in the centre of the hollowed tree and joined Astraea. “There now princess,” she told the girl, “Titania will have food and her bed for when she returns.”

“What’s your name lady?” Rhaenys asked, clutching Astraea’s skirt when the woman stood.

“My name is Astraea,” she paused a moment before adding, “of House Emrys.”

“C-Can I…” she looked hesitantly at Astraea, “I would like it if you would tell me more stories Lady Astraea.”

“I would love to tell you more stories princess,” she smiled as the girl relaxed and gave her a beaming smile.

“I thought I told you to head straight for bed Rhaenys,” the girl in question jumped at the voice and looked guiltily away. “I’ve told you before that you are to do as your guards tell you to.”

“I know papa but I was just…”

“Looking for fairies,” Astraea said confidently, grinning at the wide-eyed awe filled look that came across Rhaenys’ face. “But I have told her that fairies don’t show themselves to humans.”

“Fairies?” Rhaegar shot the elder girl a quizzical look, “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Papa fairies are tiny creatures that fly,” Rhaenys rolled her eyes, as though she had known of fairies all along before running to her father excitedly. “When I grow up I want to be just like Queen Titania.”

“Oh I see,” he smiled patiently, “you will have to tell me all about this Titania then, but first you must sleep. Ser Barristan will see you to your chamber.”

The kingsguard in question took the girl away and Astraea was left feeling awkward under the hot gaze of the prince. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out, “I didn’t mean to intrude, I should’ve just let you deal with her, you are her father.”

“Don’t apologise,” Rhaegar told her softly, a fond look in her eye, “you treated her kindly and the story seemed most fascinating. Though I fear Rhaenys will wish to grow fairy wings now.”

“I just didn’t want to leave knowing I could’ve helped, she’s a sweet girl and I enjoyed telling the tale,” she shifted from one foot to another.

“I hope you will tell her more,” he smiled a genuinely happy smile, “though I must know the name of young lady who has so charmed my daughter.”

“Astraea Emrys,” she told him, the last name sounding foreign on her tongue, but it was necessary for Potter was too common. She could hide behind the legendary figure of Merlin here and create a brand new ancestry, though she was a descendant of Merlin. She always found it was best to lie with the truth.

“It a pleasure to finally meet you Lady Astraea,” there was strange look in his eyes, a heat which unsettled her, or perhaps it was use of the word _finally_. As though their meeting was inevitable, something he had known about for a very long time. She half expected to hear him say _I’ve been waiting for you_ , then drag her off to some sort of kinky sex dungeon.

She snorted unable to help herself, Rhaegar’s quizzical look soon had her laughing full out, her arms wrapped around her stomach and tears began to pour from her eyes. In her mind’s eye she was picturing his confusion at all the different things people use during sex. She wondered if he’d be disgusted or intrigued. She settled on the former, here sex was duty not pleasure and used as a means to procreate. “I apologise,” she said after taking a moment to compose herself, “I just had a rather funny thought.”

Rhaegar only stared at her, approval in his indigo coloured eyes, as though he’d gotten something he could only have dreamed of. He smiled handsomely when her noticed her stare, she flushed and looked away, she wasn’t staring for the reasons he obviously thought. Sure he was very attractive, she’d have to be a fool not to notice, but it was his intensity that put her on edge. She was unsure about what he wanted. _He seeks a wife,_ Brandon’s words haunted her mind and for a moment she was stricken with horror at the thought. _Hell no! He can take his pretty smile and shove it,_ she thought hastily, _he’s at least seven years older than me and I’m barely legal. I don’t have time for these sort of complications._

“Would my lady care to share?” Ser Arthur asked, an eyebrow raised as he looked between the pair.

“Not in the slightest,” she responded, moving away from them and back the way she came, “it’s been a delight to make your acquaintances, but I must get back. A girl needs her beauty sleep after all.”

She was not running away, or that’s what she told herself as she hastily stepped across the grass, she did not look back. But she could feel his gaze on her nonetheless and she had to fight the urge to shiver.


	4. Rhaegar's Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaegar's insight into things, and Aerys enters the fold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm quite happy with this chapter...  
> I forgot to mention in the notes of the last chapter, I was asked which actor I thought would make a good Rhaegar, so I've been looking it up and I'm thinking, Jamie Campbell Bower... maybe. I will probably change my mind later.

_Rhaegar stared around him with no short amount of confusion, he was dreaming and he was no stranger to the dragon dreams that plagued his family, but this felt different. Elia had just died and he was wrought with grief, he didn’t love her but he cared for her all the same, perhaps that was the cause of this strange dream. All around him was a murky grey fog, thick like the fog that rolled of the sea in the early morning. He took a step forwards, causing the fog to spread like a ripple before calming once more, his hand went to his hip searching for a sword that was not there, he cursed himself and clenched his hand. He could do naught but continue onwards._

_“The famous Rhaegar Targaryen,” the voice echoed around him and he could not pinpoint where it came from. “Do you know where you are?”_

_“No,” he responded, “will you tell me?”_

_“This is called the Dreamscape,” the voice suddenly sharpened behind him and he whirled around. He sucked in a breath and found his mouth dry, she was ethereal in beauty, pale snow white skin, full red lips that begged him to taste them, green eyes that laid his soul bare and glowed with power. She was curvy and her green dress clung to the swell of her breasts and curve of her hips. Her raven coloured hair fell down her back in ringlets. Desire pooled within him and he looked away from her guiltily, even Elia had not enticed such a reaction from him. “It is a rather odd place is it not?”_

_He cleared his throat. “Yes, what is the Dreamscape?” he asked, stepping closer to her unknowingly; her aura simply pulled him to her. She didn’t respond with words only motioned for him to follow her, not able to do much else, he did so. The fog parted before the woman as though she commanded them and some part of him wondered if she was some enchantress. She led him to a ledge and turned to watch expectantly._

_He was sure his reaction did not disappoint her, for he was sure he looked as awestruck as he felt. Before him, across the sky which held a multitude of reds, purples, and oranges, lay huge spherical balls. Each a different colours, some more than one, though one called to him more than the others, it was smaller and half was red and the other was white._

_“Fire and ice,” she told him when she noticed what planet he was staring at, “it’s your home. All of these planets are different worlds. See there,” she lifted her finger to point at a mostly blue planet with green dotted about it. “That’s where I was born, we call it Earth, but there are many different countries and nations within the Earth. The island I was born on is called England, it has a monarchy but we’re mostly ruled by a government now.”_

_“How is this possible?” he breathed in sheer amazement._

_“The Dreamscape is also known as the In-Between-World,” she turned to smile at him, “I was overwhelmed at first too. But this place is a world between the worlds, only accessible through dreams and magic and for short periods of time.”_

_“Then you are magic?” he finally tore his gaze away from the sky, “why did you bring me here?”_

_“Yes I am magic, you would know my type of magic better as Old Magic,” she sighed as though she had a weight on her mind. “I brought you here to tell you something important. We do not have much time left though.” As she spoke sure enough the world began to darken around them, the planets blinking out one by one until only the one she called Earth and his own remained. “The Long Night is coming Rhaegar and the dragon must have three heads, you know this, but there is another threat within the Dark. One more terrible than the Others…”_

The first time she came to him he was startled, unable to understand her warning and yet believing her all the same. It was too real, something he could not cook up in his wildest imagination. He had wanted to go back to sleep right away and seek his answers, but he knew he would not return to Dreamscape. She had to bring him there. For a while he did not see her again, and he had thought he had gone mad, he obsessed about her and her cryptic warning. When she appeared again she did not mention the other threat, she only told him their time in the Dreamscape was unpredictable and her name. Astraea. He carved it into his mind. Each time he found her in Dreamscape, he found pieces of his heart would be left behind.

She never told him when she would arrive in Westeros, only that she was coming, so when he found her in Harrenhal’s hallowed halls he was shocked, but then he was overjoyed. Finally after waiting a year he could touch his beloved star-maiden, he could kiss her, hold her, make love to her. The latter of which had him hardening faster than he ever had, he had longed to have her so intimately for a long time, he was glad when she looked away from him for he would’ve marched up to her and claimed her lips for all to see. A fact he knew she wouldn’t appreciate. So he talked with those that approached him to comment on his harp or his voice, he cared little for their words, not when she was sitting in the same room. Finally when he was free he noticed she was gone, the fact sent a mild form of panic through him as he thought he might’ve hallucinated her. Conjured her up through wishful thinking.

“Your Grace,” Ser Barristan interrupted his wayward thoughts, “the princess… she wished to play a game in the Godswood, only she refuses to come out of a hollowed out tree.”

Rhaegar could’ve sighed, his little girl was always getting into things, his mother told him it was because she had no mother to guide her. She soon would though, his beautiful Queen of Stars would make a perfect mother to Rhaenys and Aegon. They would both love her too.

His heart soared when he saw them, or rather Astraea talking to a tree which he assumed his daughter was in, he heard her speak of Titania, the Queen of Fairies. Watched as she coaxed his stubborn little girl out of the tree using methods his mother spoke of. _A woman with a natural motherly instinct is hard to come by, Rhaegar, many noble women hunger for power,_ he recalled his mother’s words, _so_ _if you find such a woman then cherish her, my son, for she holds love and loyalty within her._ He would cherish Astraea, he would love her. Even as he called out to them, he could not help but picture her with a babe in her arms – his babe – suckling at her breast. For surely she would refuse a wet nurse.

Then something happened that made him breathless with pain.

He realised she did not know him.

Of course he was prepared for this, or rather he had been told of this, but it was one thing to be told she would not know him and another to live it. In Dreamscape Astraea loved him, had told him so on multiple occasions but she was the future Astraea, the one before him did not know him. As he watched her walk away he made a vow to let her get to know him, to love him like her future counterpart did. He could only hope he didn’t mess it up, contrary to popular belief, he was not very skilled in seducing women. What he knew was what Elia taught him.

“Rhaegar,” Arthur began once they alone, “that girl… just who is she? You seem to know her.”

“She is mine Arthur,” Rhaegar responded, his voice full of want, “she is the Old Magic that will spark the return of the dragons.”

“You are certain of this?” Arthur asked perplexed.

“Completely,” he sighed and ran a hand through his long silver hair, “I only wish it was as simple as seeking a betrothal.”

“Is it not?” Arthur frowned, insanely grateful that he would never have to deal with such things.

“Astraea is many things,” his voice held a fondness, “but simple is not one of them.”

_“You know we have to stop meeting like this,” Astraea laughed, as though she wasn’t the one who brought him to her, she was wearing a loose white robe and was leaning against the pillar that held the entrance to the planetarium – a word he was still unsure of the meaning behind, he had heard her use it in jest but it had stuck in his mind – giving him a lazy smile._

_“I saw her, you I mean, today I spoke with her,” he told her eagerly, stepping forwards and crossing the short distance between them. “I wanted to take her in my arms, to make her mine right there in front of everyone. She is weary of me though.”_

_“Of course she is weary, she does not know you like I know you,” she sighed and turned away from him. “This is the last time you will see me in your dreams Rhaegar.”_

_“Why?” he all but shouted, startled by the revelation._

_“You have met the younger me,” she told him with a fond smile, “I remember the day very clearly. I had thought you had such a beautiful voice, I cried, and Rhaenys well she took her place in my heart the moment I shared that story with her. She will become me Rhaegar, you only have to be patient and kind, and I will love you with all my heart.”_

_“I don’t understand why you must leave though, surely you could stay,” Rhaegar pleaded._

_“No, you see it takes a lot of magic to get us both here and I will not risk it. Not when it could harm our most precious creation,” she turned to him and he was about to ask what she was talking of when she pulled the string on her robe and it pooled at the floor around her feet. It wasn’t her breasts that made his eyes widen, nor his cock harden, it was the soft bump her stomach made. A bump he knew from her tight clothing, had not been there before._

_“That is…” he could scarcely believe it, “you are…”_

_“Pregnant,” she finished for him, her hands coming to caress her stomach, “my magic must be used for the child now, once I reach my second trimester my magic is centred on protecting the babe and making sure it is healthy. Besides I was only here to guide you anyway, you’ve found the younger me and now this task is complete.”_

_“I-I guess this is goodbye then,” he would do nothing that would endanger his child._

_“Yes it is, but not for long, as long as you get your ass in gear and make younger me fall in love with you,” she laughed for a moment, before her face turned serious. “There is a storm coming Rhaegar, sooner than you might think, she will want to go it alone; finish it alone. In some respects she must finish it alone, but up until that point you must stay with her. No matter how much she pushes you away. Love is powerful, the most powerful magic there is._ For either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live with the other survives. _” She looked around her, worried now, as the worlds began to fade once more. “She must love you before he comes for her Rhaegar, before Voldemort snatches her from your side. The clock is ticking.”_

He woke up feeling a mix of confusion and anger. His desire to protect Astraea only growing in light of what he was told, as if he’d let this Voldemort man take her. He scoffed at the thought.

As a previous tourney champion Rhaegar wouldn’t be entering the joust until the third round, the first two were used to weed out those who were a little green between the ears and eager to show off; they were no match for the veteran jousters. He sat beside his father all day as was expected of him, but he could not tell you who fought who, for his gaze fell onto Astraea’s the moment she sat down. A fond smile came to his face unbidden as he saw her smile at something the youngest Stark boy had said, it lit up her face and made her eyes sparkle with warmth. She was beautiful not just in appearance, but in her mannerisms too. The eldest Stark boy was absent, Rhaegar noted, absently wondering if the boy was going to joust.

He scowled when Ned Stark appeared, but it wasn’t him that made him scowl, it was Robert Baratheon. He grabbed Astraea’s hand and gave it a kiss, bawdily eyeing her up and lingering far too long on her chest, stating her beauty no doubt, he could not hear what was said but he saw the way she cringed. He felt smug at that, it was clear Astraea was as repulsed by Baratheon as he was. It seemed Lady Lyanna was of the same opinion, he watched amused as she rebuffed the man. The duo garnered a lot of attention from the males around them, though they were wearier of looking at Lyanna in fear of her betrothed. It angered Rhaegar that they looked at Astraea so boldly and lecherously, and jealously reared its ugly head whenever they would talk to her. _She is mine,_ he thought whenever she laughed at their jokes, _she is my Queen of Stars. It is me who will gaze upon her naked body, my name she will call out in the throes of passion and it is my child that will grow within her womb._

“Just who is the one who captures my son’s attention so vividly?”

Rhaegar almost cursed out loud. He had been so preoccupied that he had all but forgotten where he was and that his father sat beside him. As mad as Aerys Targaryen was he didn’t miss any details.

“A girl perhaps?” Aerys mused coldly, “of course it’s a girl, who else but a pretty face and tight cunt could capture your interest so?” he turned his attention to where Rhaegar had been looking. “The Tully girl perhaps? No… the dragon does not play with a trout.”

Rhaegar wanted to argue, to say that the Tully girl was a human being, not a fish. But he could not, instead he kept silent.

“The Stark bitch?” Aerys continued, “no not her either. Though the wolves have old blood, it is not pure, not like that of the dragons. The bitch is not much to look at, too _Northern_.” He sneered in disgust.

Once again Rhaegar wished to argue, to point out Lyanna’s beauty, but he didn’t. He kept his silence hoping, praying to whatever gods would listen, that he would take Astraea for Lyanna’s handmaid and overlook her. He didn’t know what would happen should his father find out about her.

“I believe,” the sly voice of Varys cut in and Rhaegar’s stomach clenched, “that the prince’s attentions lay on Lyanna’s companion.”

“I see,” Aerys leant forwards to assess the girl, his eyes glittering madly once he found what everyone eventually noticed about the green-eyed beauty. “She’s a pretty little thing… but there is an aura about her, something powerful.” Rhaegar knew the look his father had so well, it was the same look he had when he wanted someone to burn. “I shall let you fuck her little cunt if you so desire, and when you’re done with her she will burn,” he gave Rhaegar a sickeningly satisfied look. “I wonder though, will she scream as loud for you as she will for me?”

_You will never find out,_ Rhaegar thought savagely, _you will never touch her_.

“To burn this one would be unwise your grace,” Varys cut in smoothly and Rhaegar stared at him in disbelief and suspicion. “My little birds have sung some interesting tales about her, if your grace would care to hear.”

“Tell me,” Aerys commanded sharply.

Varys shot Rhaegar a sly smile that told the prince Varys knew her secret. “Her name is Astraea Emerys and she possesses a rather… unique… skill set. She is born of Old Magic, unlike any seen before her.”

Rhaegar wanted to jump up, draw his sword and run it through the Spy Master’s belly, but that would mean his own death. His father had been waiting for the opportunity to kill Rhaegar for a while now. He refused to give his father that chance so he remained silent.

“Many claim to possess magic,” Aerys intoned in a bored fashion.

“True your grace, but hers is different, she does not use the blood magic found in Essos, nor the mummers tricks. She has a wand, she casts spells, enchantments, brews potion to cure ills. My birds have heard her speak of dragons, she is the key to their return. She wields dragon magic.”

He watched his father comprehend what was said with a growing unease, of course he knew all of this, but he did not want his father to know. The madness within the king’s purple eyes seemed to abate, but Rhaegar knew differently, his father had latched onto the thing he cared for. Dragon magic. He knew his desire to have Astraea as his wife had gotten easier, but getting her to love him had just moved a few steps further away from him.

“Your interest in the girl pleases me greatly Rhaegar,” Aerys hissed the only emotion now discernible in his eyes was desire. “The girl will make a far greater wife than that Dornish whore ever did… dragon magic… the dragon will have magic once again.” He turned to assess Astraea in a new light, his gaze taking in every inch of her in a way that made Rhaegar’s stomach turn. “Once you’re wed perhaps I will have a taste of her,” he laughed cruelly, “wont that just kill you boy? Never knowing if the child she bares is mine or yours.”

_I will kill you long before you lay your hands on her, you might be my father but there is no love between us._ Never before had he wished to kill someone as much as he did right then. “Any child Lady Astraea has will be mine,” he assured his father, his tone dangerously low.

“Will it?” Aerys asked amused. “Varys… have the girl dine with my son tonight, privately, and have my displeasure known should she refuse. Who knows, if you can charm her well enough, you might have your seed in her tonight.”

“I would not dishonour her that way,” he responded tightly. _No matter how I wish I could, I would not do that to her and nor would I give you the satisfaction of knowing I bedded her._

“Of course you wouldn’t,” he sneered at his son, “Rhaegar Targaryen, ever the gallant prince.” It was clearly not to be taken as a compliment, not that Rhaegar would ever take anything his father said to heart.

He could only hope dinner wouldn’t go badly, perhaps he should bring Rhaenys along with him. His daughter would be delighted and acting as an unknowing mediator between him and Astraea. Perhaps if all does go well he may even be granted a kiss from his fair maiden. He swallowed thickly at the thought of those full red lips pliant beneath his own. He couldn’t help but wonder what she tasted like.


	5. Hard Truths and Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaegar reveals the truth of his relationship to Astraea, but is the future set in stone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The short poem in the extract is from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll. The chapter is still with Rhaegar and his views on things, so we don't get Astraea's feelings aside from what Rhaegar sees and what she says. We will be back with her next chapter.

The sight before Rhaegar stole his breath away, but then whatever his beloved star-maid did took his breath, she sat with Rhaenys on the balcony of his chambers. She wore strange clothes, they were tight on her body and made of a material he was not familiar with, and though they revealed the shape of her body to others he could not help the smirk of amusement. Apparently she hadn’t taken well to being ordered to dine with him, so Arthur had told him when he fetched the girl, and had outright refused to come until Eddard had persuaded her. When questioned on her choice of dress she had responded with ‘I can wear whatever I damn well please and if that ponce of a prince doesn’t like it, well, he can shove it where the sun don’t shine’. Needless to say she had amused his friend greatly, and Arthur had great fun in telling recounting the event to him as he returned from the stables. He had been running late, but his daughter had been waiting for Astraea to arrive.

Rhaenys was sat in Astraea’s lap, cuddled up to the young woman with her hands playing with the garment that covered Astraea’s upper body. Her eyes were wide as she stared silently up at Astraea, every so often she would giggle crazily – almost as though she had been possessed by some spirit. It was a beautiful sight to see.

“Another one!” He heard her say, and he smiled, happy that his daughter had gained a role model.

“Hmm, let me see.” Astraea’s fingers played with the mass of brown curls atop Rhaenys head, whilst Rhaegar lent against the archway of the balcony and remained unnoticed by the two.

_“How doth the little crocodile_  
_Improve his shining tail,_  
_And pour the waters of the Nile_  
_On every golden scale!_

_“How cheerfully he seems to grin,_  
_How neatly spread his claws,_  
_And welcome little fishes in_  
_With gently smiling jaws!”_

Astraea grinned as she finished the poem and Rhaegar marvelled at how silly the poem was, poems were meant for words of love and beauty, of nature and even sorrow. But when Rhaenys was bowled over with laughter once again, he knew he had come upon a sudden love of these silly poems.

“Another!” Rhaenys gasped out through her laughter.

“My, what a greedy princess you are,” Astraea laughed and Rhaegar felt his heart soar. “I’m afraid I cannot remember anymore funny poems, but if I should, then you’ll be the first to hear them.”

“It seems,” Rhaegar called out, bringing their attention to him, “that I have missed out on all of the fun.”

“Papa!” Rhaenys scrambled from Astraea’s lap, moving to wrap her arms around his legs, “Astraea has been doing poems.”

“She has been reciting poetry,” he corrected with a fond smile, “and they seemed awfully funny. Far better than the ones I have read for sure.”

“They are poems for children,” Rhaenys told him, “Astraea says adult poems are boring. She says they are filled with mushy lovey dovey words.” She pulled a face, probably the same one Astraea had pulled, and Rhaegar grinned broadly. It was clear Rhaenys hadn’t a clue of what the words meant, she was only parroting the older girl.

“Indeed they are, Lady Astraea is right,” Rhaegar nodded, his purple gaze alight with mirth as he looked upon the young woman who had his heart.

“I am always right,” she told him with a smile, his heart skipped a beat, would he ever not react to her?

“Oh, is that so?” he asked softly, watching with eager eyes as she stood, drinking in her form like a thirsty man. She had made no real effort to look pretty like any other lady would when told she would share a meal with royalty, and yet, to him she still looked beautiful. Her hair was strung up with a leather band, the cloth that covered the top of her body was looser than he first thought, but he could make out the slope of her breasts, and her legs were clad in the strange material he noted upon arrival. Only now he could truly see how form fitting they were, he swallowed thickly at the sight, imagining those long, lean legs wrapped around his waist. He drew his eyes back up her form, moving his thoughts away from her tempting body, he saw the words on her top and frowned. “What is a Ka-ka-she?” he said the unfamiliar word slowly.

“He is a ninja,” she replied with a small amused smirk that told him she would not elaborate even when asked. His lips pursed sourly at the thought of another man’s name emblazoned on her clothing, as though he were stating his claim, Rhaegar did not like this Kakashi fellow and should he ever meet the man he would make it clear just who Astraea belonged to.

He was spared from answering her when the servants came in with their food, Rhaenys promptly declared she was a hungry crocodile and sat at the table, and Rhaegar was made to watch how they interacted once more. Occasionally he would eat, putting what was on his plate into his mouth automatically, far more focused on listening to his daughter and his love converse together. He knew she was ignoring him, but he was content to let her, this meeting was of his father’s doing and though Rhaegar was suffering the consequences he decided it wasn’t so bad. Astraea was in his room after all. Unbidden, the image of Astraea wearing nothing but her chemise, laying on his bed giving him a shy smile with trust and want in her eyes, swam to the surface of mind. His hands clenched as his breeches tightened, swallowing thickly he closed his eyes for a moment, willing his erection away lest his guest notice.

“Papa,” Rhaenys’ voice pulled him back towards them, he opened his eyes and was met with the disapproving face of his daughter. “Grandmamma says it is rude to ignore a guest.”

“Forgive me, Rhaenys, Lady Astraea,” he bowed his head to both of them, watching his green eyed witch closely, “it was never my intention to be rude. Nor would I ever willingly ignore such a beautiful young maiden like Lady Astraea.” He wondered when Rhaenys would grow out of this parroting stage, she listened to everything and it was only a matter of time before she parroted something she was not supposed to.

“I wasn’t offended, I didn’t mind it actually,” she commented lightly, as though she was commenting on the weather and not insulting him. Her eyes narrowed challengingly and Rhaegar found himself wanting to rise to the challenge, to make her converse with him, but with Rhaenys with them he dare not risk getting Astraea angry.

“I see my daughter’s conversation skills are far more riveting than anything I could speak of,” he settled on saying, giving his daughter a beaming smile. The food was taken from the room and Rhaenys scrambled out of her chair and into her father’s lap.

“Children see the world differently than an adult does, it’s fascinating to see it through their eyes,” she responded softly and it was her turn to watch the interaction between her companions. Rhaegar saw the longing in her eyes, how she lingered on Rhaenys’ happy chatter and his arms wrapped around his daughter’s waist. _Is she imagining her own father or mother?_ He thought, sadness filling him, he knew her parents had died a short while after her birth. She had always sketched over her childhood in the Dreamscape, never lingering on it for too long. But he could see it before him clear as day, she had never been truly cared for.

“Yes, I suppose it would be interesting, but you seem to resonate with her. You have a vivid imagination and I believe Rhaenys responds to that.”

His words seemed to startle her, as though she was not used to receiving compliments, and he saw a blush rise within her cheeks. Though it wasn’t a direct compliment, the kind words seem to do him a world of good, for her eyes lost their guardedness and she opened herself to him. He smiled at the response, though it wasn’t what he was aiming for, it was welcome nonetheless. As though he had somehow passed a test, he found her opening up to him slightly, telling him of the things she had imagined as a child, of becoming friends with Titania and finding a small puppet who she pretended was an elven princess. He could not stop smiling even if he wanted to, her stories were wonderful to hear, he even responded with his own tales. His own childhood was spent with his mother singing to him and in the library reading.

They continued talking long after Rhaenys was taken to her bed, the little girl had fallen asleep upon her father’s lap.

“Rhaegar?” she broke the content silence between them and he looked up, the pleading in her eyes telling him the question she wanted to ask was going to be difficult to answer. “Yesterday… you… when you saw me, it was like you knew me. But that’s not possible, I’d never seen you before then, so how? How can you know me?”

“I…” he trailed off, what was he supposed to say? What words could he tell her that wouldn’t destroy to progress he had made with her? “It is hard to explain,” he began softly, moving so he took the seat beside her, “I truly don’t understand how, but then I am not of magic kind, I do not know how it works.”

“You know of magic!?” her words were panicked and she drew away from him, standing and backing away, afraid. Pain clenched around his heart as he saw her fear, knowing it was him that had caused it. He grabbed her hand before she could get too far from him, and tugged her closer. She had not expected the move and stumbled forwards, falling into his lap, his arms automatically wrapping around her.

“I know of magic because you showed it to me,” he whispered quickly, cursing himself for not being able to phrase it clearer. “You ask how I know you when you do not know me, it is because I dreamt of you. For the past year or so I have dreamt of you. You came to me not long after Elia died, only it was not as you are now. You are younger than you were in my dreams and it is clear to me that you do not know of our time together.”

“That’s not possible,” she whispered, her eyes wide and unseeing.

“It is,” he responded, pressing his forehead to the top of her head, breathing her in and trying to keep calm. His mind was racing, thoughts of what would happen should she reject him, should she not believe him. A part of his mind told him that telling her the truth was not a good idea, but he could not stop now. “I _know_ you, Astraea. I know that your godfather was wrongly imprisoned for the murder of your parents, that it was their other friend who betrayed them. I know that you helped him escape when you were thirteen, that you proved how powerful you were when you conjured the patronus that saved you both, I know you saved the life of a magical creature that night too. I know you held a crush on the young Tom Riddle when you were twelve, that it hurt you more than you told your friends when he turned out to be evil. I know when you were seven your uncle left you in London, you were almost raped, but were saved by a woman wearing a wizards robe. I know you.”

“You can’t know those things,” she whispered horrified, he knew why, some of the things her older counterpart had told him she hadn’t told others. Not even her closest friend.

“But I do,” his voice was soft, the tone he used to calm Rhaenys after the child had a nightmare. “You told me those things, Astraea, we spoke plenty within the Dreamscape.”

“B-But _why?_ Why would I tell you?”

He didn’t answer, letting her think it through for herself, his hand rubbing small, comforting circles on her back. He was reminded how young she truly was, she couldn’t be more than sixteen, yet she acted so much older and was so much wiser than those of her age. Cersei Lannister was very much a girl who acted her age, for all her determination she thought herself better than she was, he saw through her attempts – subtle though they were, it did not take a genius to see through the low cut dresses and flirtatious smiles. Astraea collapsed against him, sobbing hard, and he knew she had figured out the answer. _It is because you love me,_ he answered in his mind, _you would not reveal your secrets to anyone, except the one you had given your heart to._ He pulled her closer and more firmly onto his lap, soothing her as he did his daughter, and when she had calmed enough to pull away from him he could not resist the urge to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I won’t find a way home, will I?” she whispered, hiccupping slightly, her hands fisting the material of his tunic.

“No,” he responded, looking away in guilt for he was the reason she would stay.

“Did I tell you that?” she asked.

“Not with words,” he responded softly, his tone taking on a fondness and he could not help but smile.

“Then how do you know?” she asked confused.

His right hand moved up, rubbing against her stomach through the material of her garment, it was flat and no doubt would have been smooth to touch. But it would not always be so, he had seen it, just like he had seen the love in her eyes as they conversed in the Dreamscape. “I doubt you would leave your babe fatherless,” he found himself whispering, “and even if that was what you wished, I would not allow it.” She gasped at his words, and his hand moved up to caress her cheek, his thumb brushing against her full lower lip. “I doubt you would leave the man you love, as if I would let the woman I love escape me,” he continued on, his voice low and husky.

“A baby?” she whispered, her own hands pressing against her stomach, and he knew she was imagining what he had. A child with their features, the happiness of parenthood and love.

“A family,” he corrected just as quietly, her older self had told him of her desire for a family from a young age. A desire he could see within the green eyes of his young love. “You and I,” he breathed, moving forwards unknowingly until he could feel her breath on his lips, “Rhaenys and whatever children we produce. Together as a family.”

“I’ve always wanted a family,” she told him breathlessly, her tone alight with wonder as though she couldn’t quite comprehend it.

_“I’ve always wanted a family, and you gave that to me Rhaegar, you gave me all I could ever want and more.”_

The words older Astraea had uttered that night in the Dreamscape had been the final push over the precipice he had been teetering on, he fell in love with her right then. He found himself falling in love with the girl all over again as she uttered those familiar words. She was younger than the Astraea he knew, more immature and innocent, but she was still Astraea and how could he not love her? He smiled, brushing his lips softly against hers. “I know,” he told her as she gasped and blushed, before sealing his lips against hers.

He had imagined her kiss most nights, what it would be like to feel her lips against his own, to feel that small gasp she gave and to slip his tongue inside the moist cavern of her mouth. His imagination and fantasies were severely lacking, for as soon as he kissed her he wanted more, the brush of her magic gave him a thrill so high that he was instantly hard, achingly so. His hand that had been caressing her cheek moved to the back of her head, pressing her closer to him, her magic running across his skin excitedly. Her magic was delighted, he could tell that much, but she had yet to respond. In his fantasies she would always be eager and willing, wanting him as much as he wanted her. Frustrated at her lack of response, he nipped at her bottom lip and pulled away. “You’re supposed to kiss back, love,” he told her with a seductive smirk, only to frown when she shook her head. “What do you mean no?”

“I can’t,” she whispered, her hands tightening, her breathing was heavy and her eyes were wide and afraid. “I can’t stay here, I can’t love you, I can’t have your baby. I just can’t.”

“Of course you can,” he told, a hint of anger and frustration creeping into his tone. “I’m not expecting you to fall in love straight away, with time we-”

“No!” She cut across him, her eyes were wide and afraid. “I have to get home.”

“I’ve already told you-”

“The future isn’t set in stone, it constantly changes to adapt to our decisions, what you saw in your dreams might not come to pass.”

Fear gripped him then and with it came an anger as ferocious as a dragon, his hands gripped her wrists hard and tugged her even closer to him. “You are not going home,” he told her hotly, his fingers tightening around her.

“I _have_ to. I’m the only one who can stop Voldemort.”

The name gave him pause and he remembered the older Astraea’s words, his fear only grew at the thoughts of the unknown man taking her from him and he shook his head. “No, I will not allow it.”

“I’m not asking your goddamn permission,” she snapped, her shock gone and replaced with her own anger. “I have a prophecy to fulfil and that means going home and defeating the Dark Lord. Only I can do it. I can’t just leave my friends behind, I’m not a coward. I have to find a way home.”

“You are mine!” he all but roared, anger and jealousy gripping him tight, “you cannot leave me. Not after all you told me. I love you, Astraea, I’ve loved you for so long that I cannot let you go.” He breathed deeply, trying to calm his anger and soothe the dragon within that her words had awoken. “Please, Astraea, all that I ask is that you give me a chance. Let me love you.”

She lent forwards, her head moving up his so that her lips brushed over hers and for a brief moment he thought he had won. He thought she would give him a chance. “Petrificus Totalus,” she whispered against his lips and he felt her magic sweep over him. She pulled her hands away from him and stood, but he could not move. He willed his body to move, to fight against whatever spell she had put him under, but he did not move an inch. “I’m sorry, Rhaegar, but I can’t just give up on all I know and love for the sake of an unknown future,” she gave him a sad smile, “the spell will wear off soon.”

Then she was gone and he was left wondering how he was to ever win her affections. How could he convince her to stay when she held such loyalty to her world? A part of him wanted that loyalty all for himself, for her to be as dedicated to him in such a manner. Rhaegar was jealous and a jealous dragon was a dangerous thing indeed. He would need to seduce the little witch, perhaps her age and innocence in such matters would work in his favour.


End file.
